


Territorial

by witch_brew



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Blood, Chasing, Dubious Consent, Gen, Hunting, NSFW, Omorashi, Other, Piss, Reader is a werewolf, Reader is weak, Second person POV, Vincent is VERY TERRITORIAL, Violence, Watersports, and you're in his area, ask to tag I guess, dubcon, for now, he licks it a little so warning for that., idk - Freeform, im not good at tagging things, predatory behavior, reader lives, uhhhhh, you piss yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 06:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11285793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witch_brew/pseuds/witch_brew
Summary: You don't belong here, and he has to teach you a lesson.





	Territorial

**Author's Note:**

> TheRE ITS DONE. Lawrence's are WIPs rn.

This isn't where you're supposed to be. You know that. You were told where to hunt and this is w r o n g. Why would your pack drop you off here?

You knew they didn't like you... but this... smelt like someone else had been here first. Like that guy your pack warned you to avoid. Vincent. 

Which was bad. That meant you were in someone else's territory. His territory. And that was a bad thing. 

At first you think maybe this place is abandoned. You know you're the slowest member of the pack but... they wouldn't... they wouldn't leave you to die. Would they?

(They did. They would and they did.)

You wander for a bit, under-dressed and hungry, until nightfall.

You hear a low growl behind you, the hair on your neck standing on end as you freeze. 

The growl grows closer, and you turn slowly. There's a man standing there, half shifted, ears and tail in full view. Teeth sharp and bared at you. 

He smells like this is his territory. He smells like Vincent. Looks like Vincent. And he's so much bigger than you. 

You whimper softly, backing away with your hands up, wondering how fast you'd need to be to outrun him. 

Faster than you are, probably.

He crouches, ready to lunge, and you spin around and flee deeper into the woods. Deeper into his territory. 

You here his howl behind you and know he's giving chase. You've never been fast enough. You're going to die. 

Fuck. 

You run anyway, as hard and as fast as you can. You hear him behind you. Hear the low growls echoing through the trees. His furious, excited huffs of laughter. He's hunting you. 

The trees are getting thicker, the forest floor more cluttered, harder to navigate. How are you going to make it out of this alive? 

You aren't. 

You trip, suddenly, and sprawl out on the ground, shouting sharply as a branch embeds itself in your arm, spilling your blood on the forest floor. Strengthening your own scent. Drawing him closer. 

You manage to roll onto your backside just as he breaks through the treeline, his eyes finding you quickly. You scramble backwards as he stalks forwards, tears beginning to leak from your wide eyes, terror chilling you to the bone.

Your bladder relaxes in pure terror, the front of your pants growing damp and warm as you whimper and prepare to beg for your life.

He pauses, sniffing the air once more. 

“Did you just piss yourself?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Not only are you going to die here, you're going to die embarrassed. 

But then he grins, prowling forwards with a different look in his eyes than he'd previously had. He wraps a large hand around your throat, pinning you to the tree. 

“Answer me.”

You whimper and his hand tightens, almost cutting off oxygen. You choke out a timid 'yes', hoping to appease him, and he laughs. He fucking laughs. But he lets go. 

“That's fuckin' great. Take off your pants.” 

You have trouble processing that for a moment. He's not patient. He hits you, hard, a single punch to the face that splits your lip and breaks your nose.

“I said take off your fucking pants. Don't make me change my mind again, you'll like the other choice a lot less.” 

You're crying a little as blood streams from your nose, dripping down your chin, but you do as he says and remove your pants. He hooks his hands beneath your knees, dragging you onto your back, and leans in so his nose is between your thighs. Sniffing at your mess.

You try not to squirm, try not to become aroused at the heat of his breath on your crotch, but you can't help it. You whimper quietly and he digs his claws into your thighs until the skin pops and you let out a sharp hiss. 

He leans in closer, and you're frightened he might eat you alive from the bottom, but instead he licks you. One long lap, not to pleasure, more to... taste. He's tasting you. 

Your piss, sweat, arousal. All of it. 

He gives a couple more licks and you're already a trembling mess of arousal and fear. 

“I'm gonna fuck you.” 

He states it like a comment on the weather. Just a fact, plain and simple. 

You shiver, blinking up at him, a small seed of hope sprouting in the back of your mind. 

“Hands and knees. Now.” 

Each word is growled into your ear, and you roll over instantly, presenting oh so nicely to him. He barely pauses, just long enough to free his cock really, before the blunt head is pressing into you, opening you up for every fantastic inch of him. 

It's too much, stretching you to the point where your eyes prick with tears, but you take it all, pushing back against him, hoping that maybe if you do a good job he'll let you survive the night. 

His hand presses your face into the damp earth and you gasp for air as he thrusts harder into you, pressing as deep as he can go. Your own fingers claw at the dirt, tearing up grass in clumps. 

He's panting and growling and even though there are tears streaking their way down your cheeks, it hurts in a good way and you're moaning in between ragged breaths, dirt smearing across your face, his hand tightening in your hair, the other on your hip, it's so much. Too much.

You never want it to end. 

He fucks you with hard, deep thrusts, unrelenting and savage and raw and you forget everything other than this very moment beneath him. 

You feel your entire body and mind submit to him.

Your fear from earlier is forgotten, replaced with the pleasure of being fucked into the ground. Your hips buck backwards, meeting him thrust for bruising thrust. The wet slap of skin on skin and your own half pained, half pleasured noises are the only sounds you can make out now.

You cum sudden and hard, everything tightening at once right before the beautiful release. He follows shortly, slamming deep into you as he empties himself. 

In more ways than one, apparently, as you feel his piss leaking down your thighs moments later. 

You lie there while he catches his breath, your sense of self slowly returning to you.

You hope, maybe, he will let you live. Let you leave.

He stands. 

He rolls you over with a boot before swiftly slamming his foot into your rib cage with a loud, sharp crack. 

You gasp for air that doesn't come, struggling to sit up and move away from his seemingly ceaseless attack. He keeps kicking you. Harder and harder, crushing your ribs. You become acquainted with the strange sensation of blood filling your lungs. 

You think you might be dying. 

(You'll wish you had. But that's for later.)

You manage to roll back onto your dirty belly, begin crawling feebly away. 

He stomps down on your leg, snapping it like a branch underfoot. You scream, voice still raw from the sex. He doesn't stop. He doesn't let you die.

He delivers one swift kick to the back of your head, and all you know is darkness.

(Later, once he's doctored you up a little, you'll wake up in chains in his basement, and the fun can begin all over again.)

He'll use you until you break.


End file.
